You Only Need The Light
by arsenicapples
Summary: After Fred's death, George runs into a forgotten muggle friend. As his demons haunt him, he attempts to navigate his life but she won't let him do it on his own.


"Morning." Bethany sat up, squinting through the sunlight streaming through the window. The blinding light masked the figure standing beside it; she shut her eyes again quickly. The tang of fresh black tea bit her nose. She rubbed the sleep away and tried looking at the window again. This time the lean form of a man took shape and solidified. George gave her a cheeky grin.  
With one hand he leaned on the counter, and with the other he held a steaming mug of what she could only assume was the aforementioned tea. Bethany took a deep breath and sat up, preparing for the worst. Surely enough, a blinding headache quickly swept all else from her mind. She swung her legs out of bed and stood up, suddenly very aware that she was only wearing her oversized red flannel. Goosebumps rose up on her legs and she decided to swathe herself in her blanket.  
As her mind began filling in the events of last night that she had forgotten, George began bustling around the small kitchen. Within seconds he had procured another cup of strong black tea.  
He propped himself up against the brick wall and looked around. "Nice flat you have here. Very... comfy."

"Yes George, my apartment is small. I know." A comfortable silence followed in which she sipped her tea and considered the previous night.  
They had gotten drunk. That much she remembered. A late night at the paper shop followed by bumping into George at the pharmacy had somehow led to them drinking champagne from the bottle by the gnome fountain in the botanical gardens (they had jumped the fence). After that they had returned to her flat since his brother was at theirs, and from then on... She preferred to say it wasn't even close to PG rated. "Oh, god."  
"I prefer to be called by my common name."  
"Satan?" Bethany asked sweetly.  
"Close enough." Bethany set her teacup down in a stray saucer and padded over to him, pulling herself onto the window ledge. "So Georgie dear, how much do you remember?"  
George gave her a sly little grin "Enough to know that you are not nearly as innocent as I thought. Tell me, how is it that the paper shop girl learned how to—"  
"Okay! You've answered my question."  
"Ah yes, but you have not answered mine."

* * *

Bethany fumbled with the key to her apartment, finally sliding it open and tossing her keys to the floor. George closed the door, and before he could completely turn around she had pulled him by his lapels onto the couch. He was on top of her. Hands in her hair, on her face, sliding up and down her waist. She slid her arms around his neck and pulled him into a deep kiss. He tasted like peppermint and alcohol.

Winding her hands through his bright red hair, she felt him fumbling to unbutton her shirt. She helped him, sliding it off over her head. She reached up, undoing the buttons on his dress shirt.

He slid it off onto the floor easily—and they were kissing again. She broke away and rolled them over, standing up but not letting her hands leave him. She kissed him intermittently until he deepened the kiss. She was pressed against the wall, pinioned between him and the rough brick. She had a fleeting thought about the neighbors hearing, but it was gone too fast for her to notice. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and he carried her into the bedroom.

They crashed into the bed, rolling over before coming to a stop a few feet from each other. She slowly began to slip her skirt off, teasing him until he grew impatient and she giggled as he lunged across the bed to her. He kissed his way down her body, along her neck, down her chest, all the way to her abdomen.

A thought crossed her mind. She tapped his bare back to get his attention. "Wait, wait." He sat up, straddling her waist. "Do you have anything?" He thought for a minute. "No. Do you?"

"I think so." She sat up and kissed him, sliding lithely from underneath him. "I'll be right back." She swung open the bathroom door and rummaged in the cabinet for what she needed. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and stopped. Her hair had slipped loose from its clip and was flying free, and her face was flushed. She leaned against the counter, unable to look away. "Hey," George's voice came from the other room. "I found one." He grinned at her and she smiled back, heading into the other room, unable to shake the sight of her face in the mirror from her mind.

* * *

"I'll only say this: sometimes peers aren't the best role models." He shook his head in mock disappointment. "And here I thought you were a virgin."

"And here I thought you were! Come to think, last time you kissed me you bit my lip so hard it started bleeding and you apologized continually until we got to my house."

George sipped his tea. "Good thing I'm more experienced now, isn't it? If I couldn't handle even kissing I could have fatally injured you when things got more serious."

Bethany watched him. He had carefully skirted her question, and she couldn't help but giggle at the thought of his first time. She gave him a swift kiss on the cheek and stood. "Well, as fun as this little reunion has been, I have to go to work."

George set his cup down and snagged her waist, pulling her back to him and kissing her in return before letting her slip away. "And I know how much you'd hate to leave all zero of your customers waiting."

"Just because the paper shop is going under does not mean that I can just miss an entire day of work. Besides, what do suggest we do? Last night was... crazy. But that's all it was. Because it's been years since I last saw you. Hell, last I saw you was when Fred sent you to tell me it was over. Because he couldn't stand me anymore." Her voice grew bitter.

George looked away, embarrassed. "Come on," she sighed. "I'll drive you home. Just give me a minute." She strode into her bedroom and threw on a simple outfit. George followed her in, sitting on her bed as she put on mascara and concealer. "You don't need it." He told her. She glanced at him. "You're sweet." It seemed like such a simple compliment for him. Usually he would make a joke out of it somehow. Tell her that makeup should be scared of her, rather than the other way around (Bethany's parents were both in the medical industry, and they were very aware of the cancerous properties of certain cosmetics).

"Right, let's go." George stood and followed her out of the room like a scolded dog following its master. She held open the door and he sulked out. She followed him. Fog curled around her ankles and up her legs. The cobbled street was slick with moisture, and the mist was so thick she could barely make out the cote beside Mrs. Kimble's window. She barely made it into the car without slipping.

She revved up the engine and slammed the car door closed a bit too forcefully. "Where do you want me to drop you off?"

"Anywhere." Bethany frowned. George's cheery demeanor had clearly faded. Bethany half turned in her seat to look him in the eye."What's wrong?"

"It's nothing." She cocked an eyebrow. "George Weasley, with you it is almost never nothing."

"It's really nothing." She stared at him for a minute, brow furrowed in thought. "Alright,"

She turned back to the front of the car. "but I'm not just dropping you anywhere. I'm taking you home, to your apartment."

"No!" George's voice cracked. "George, did something happen between you and Fred? Are you arguing?"

"I don't want to talk about it." She crossed her arms. "This car is not moving until you give me somewhere safe to drop you off."

"The paper shop."

"What?"

"I'll go to work with you."

"What—no! This is ridiculous." George raised an eyebrow. "I gave you a location. I believe that satisfies your term. You wouldn't fall through with your terms would you?"

"Fine."

* * *

Bethany hadn't had this much fun in ages. George had broken out his old set of cards and was performing both his old tricks and his new ones. She pulled a card from his hand and checked to see what is was. He plucked it from her hand, reshuffled the deck, and carefully selected a card. "Is this card yours?" A stunned silence followed.

"You, George Weasley, are quite something."

"Always have been always will be." He said jovially. As the bell at the door rang, announcing the first – and most likely last – customer of the day, Bethany watched sadly as George slunk away to hide among the shelves.

The muffled click of stiletto heels on the soft floorboards gave Bethany an idea of who was about to round the corner. "Violeta. You're looking well." It was true. The polished, ageless face of Violeta Carbone was beautiful as it ever had been. "Bethany. Always a... Pleasure. My father is ill, the shop is going to be closed for several weeks. At least."

"Oh, my god will he be okay? Is it serious?" Violeta raised a perfect brow and stared at Bethany. "I'm going to let you think about that for a minute Bethany. This shop. Shut down. Now is that something my father would do if he wasn't horribly ill?"

"Will I remain under his employ until the shop opens again?"

"Oh Betty dear, the shop won't reopen. Consider this to be your _firing_."


End file.
